Love Never Dies Vignettes
by endocranium
Summary: Some one-shots that popped into my head the first time I heard the soundtrack. Nothing AU, just moments I thought needed more explanation or description. I'm against a Phantom sequel, but some scenes were just too good to pass up. Each stands alone.
1. This is the Choice

AN: I can't believe I'm doing this, I honestly can't. I don't even agree with the idea of "Love Never Dies" as a sequel to Phantom. But when I heard the soundtrack for the first time a bunch of these scenes popped into my head and I just had to write them down, and now for some strange reason I feel like publishing them. So go ahead, I know I'm being a bit of an idiot. Just know they were all written in the heat of the moment the first time I heard the LND soundtrack, and God only knows if I'll ever write more. Still, I had fun writing them, so I guess if anyone actually wants to read them then... well, why not? Basically it's just several one-shots based off scenes occurring and mentioned in "Love Never Dies." Some happen before the show, some during. And yes, I have seen "Love Never Dies," so I do know what I'm writing about.

Basically I felt like there were a lot of high drama and emotional moments in this show that the CD really failed to communicate. I mean, Christine's dying words are the last words on the soundtrack, so you don't know what the Phantom (who just lost the love of his life) and Gustave (who just lost his Mother) are feeling. There's so much emotion and it doesn't come across. I just couldn't take it anymore, and thus the vignettes were born.

The rating is for some mention of suicide and adult situations, but there's nothing graphic, don't worry. But come on - "Beneath a Moonless Sky" kind of deserves a T rating all on its own, so how could a vignette about it be any less descriptive? I mean, "And I caught you/and I kissed you/and I took you/and I begged you... again and then again" is pretty... well, blatant.

This is the Choice

She is to be married tomorrow.

She always knew this was what would happen. This whole mess was always doomed to end with a wedding; it was just the groom that was indefinite. And that was alright - Christine had always known she wanted to be married, to have a husband and a family and a home of her own. Raoul is a fine choice - he will care for her, she knows, and love her.

So why does she feel so sick?

She's pacing her room almost frantically, still dressed for dinner despite the late hour. She should be sleeping, resting.

She is to be married tomorrow.

The pacing ceases, and Christine looks out of the window. There's no moon tonight, and the grounds of de Chagny manor are dark and forbidding. But then again, she thinks to herself, she's used to that too. She learned long ago how to feel her way in the darkness and has become almost comfortable moving amongst the shadows. Yet another side effect of spending half her time in the basements of the Opera.

Where is he now? The mob didn't find him - Madame Giry told her that much, and the papers would have publicized it. The last time she'd seen him he'd been holding out his hand to her as she returned her ring and held onto him as long as she could before distance forced her to break away for good.

She is to be married tomorrow. And despite her naiveté, she knows this isn't how she should feel.

Closure. Perhaps that's what she needs. He gave her everything, after all, and she left him alone in a cellar. Perhaps if she could just say goodbye this feeling would go away. It would be easy enough to sneak out - everyone in the manor is asleep at this hour anyhow, and she suspects she knows where he is hiding. Closure. And then she can rest. And move on, despite the growing feeling that perhaps she made the wrong choice.

Christine moves quickly as she throws her cloak over her shoulders and runs down the stairs of the manor. It will be alright, she thinks. After tonight, everything will be perfect


	2. The Bridge is Crossed

The Bridge is Crossed

It took her weeks to find where he was hiding. No one found the ghost when he didn't want to be found, and years later Christine would reflect that she probably only found him once he realized she was looking and allowed her to know.

It was dark that night – a new moon, and Christine could barely see where she was going. The forest clearing was utterly silent, but she knew he was there. She'd always been able to feel him even when she couldn't see him behind her mirror, and the prickling along the back of her neck told her he was near.

"Why did you come, Christine?" his voice was quiet. Flat. It nearly broke her heart, although she didn't know why.

"I... I had to see you," she heard a sigh, "The way things ended..."

There was a long silence, and she thought for a moment he had left. A horrible feeling rose in her that it was a bad idea to come here, and tears stung her eyes as she turned around.

The hand that grabbed her wrist was tight, but she didn't struggle. In fact, Christine felt relief and she turned around slowly, feeling how close he suddenly was.

"Why did you really come, Christine?"

She couldn't see, and instinct told her to press closer, to seek out protection. Perhaps too close, she realized, as she felt his breath on her forehead and was suddenly aware of the warmth of his body. They had been this close before on the stage, but this felt different. He didn't recoil from her touch now, although she swore she heard his breath hitch as she tilted her head up.

"I don't know. I think I chose... I needed –" as his hand tightened reflexively on her wrist, she felt his other hand slowly caress her cheek. It was then that she felt a jolt in her stomach, and her breath quickened, her chin tilting infinitesimally. "I missed you."

Later she couldn't be exactly sure which one of them moved first. Maybe they both did at the same time. Either way, their lips met with a frantic need that shook Christine and stole her breath. Their first – and last – kiss had been loving, meant to seal their future. This was something new – it was pure, unadulterated passion.

And suddenly Christine understood those lyrics she had sung what seemed like ages ago. _When will the flames at last consume us? _Maybe she even whispered it out loud – he groaned her name, and she knew in that moment she was lost.

Her hands were frantic as she pushed the coat over his shoulders and reached for his shirt buttons, and he hesitated only for a brief moment before she felt him reach for the strings of her dress. Neither one was entirely aware of their actions, but later Christine remembered confessing things no decent girl should ever admit to (_I do want you – I've always wanted you_), and she knew he spoke words in her ear that would have seemed inappropriate in the light but now – in the dark – made her clutch at his shoulders and pull him to the ground with her.

It was like nothing she had ever felt before, Christine thought, and she had never believed she could feel so amazingly alive. The heat of her burning skin, the sensation of his mouth upon her own and then slowly moving down her throat made her gasp his name and as they both clung to each other at the end she swore she saw stars.

Afterwards, when she was breathing heavily and flushed with exertion, she considered that proper ladies didn't do this sort of thing. But she really couldn't bring herself to care. Nothing had ever felt so incredibly right before. So it was that she heard Erik's murmured words of love and his astonished gasp as she reached for him and pulled him back to her. In this moment she realized what it truly meant to feel love and passion for another person, and if she couldn't find the right words to tell him right now then she would show him.

Again and then again.


	3. Beneath a Rising Sun

Beneath a Rising Sun

Erik's peace was shattered the moment he woke and realized not only that he was not alone but that he was not wearing his mask.

First there was the panic – the fear that he'd been discovered, would be caged and stared at, humiliated yet again.

Then the awareness. The implications of what he had done.

_She sought me out, _he thought frantically. _It was her choice_. Truth be told, he couldn't even remember which one of them had initiated it - but he knew he should have been the one to stop it. She was an innocent, naive girl who couldn't possibly understand what she had done.

His hands are shaking with the effort it takes to keep himself from reaching for her again, especially knowing that she would accept – even welcome – his embrace. Or at least she would now, while it is still dark and she can't see his face. When the light comes and she opens her eyes, will she scream? Or would it be worse – the silent disgust as she tries to forget a moment of utter bliss that he knows he should never have had but had always secretly hoped for.

Erik stands and staggers backwards, putting a hand over his mouth to quiet his ragged breathing. Even now he wants her – he will never stop wanting her. But it would destroy her to live like a fugitive, impoverished and transient. She said she wanted him, but that was at night, and night has always been his domain.

Now the sun is rising.


	4. A Mother's Intuition

A Mother's Intuition

Despite what she'd read in the light romance novels Raoul kept around for her to read (_the only books appropriate for a woman, my dear_), Christine's very soul did not cry out with dramatic revelations about her child from the moment of his conception.

She knew when she first discovered she was pregnant that she might not be able to tell. The timing was so close that it could have been either one of them, and her logical mind told her that she'd really be much better off carrying Raoul's child. They could be the family she'd always wanted: free from the past and the memories of that long ago night.

At the same time, part of her – and she tried to repress it, she really did! – hoped for the other. The child that would know music as easily as it knew how to breathe, that would always carry the best of both of them. If she couldn't have him, she could have that child.

It was like nine months of torture, in the end. Not knowing nearly killed her. But when she finally felt that tearing sensation and heard the midwife exclaim, "You have a son, Madame," she breathed freely. It was clear from the moment Gustave first cried that his voice held an ethereal, musical quality which Christine had only heard once before in her life.

She knew _he_ would never know, but she liked to think he would be proud of his son. Of his stunning voice, the constant wellspring of music which came from his fingers and perhaps most of all of the beautiful face which Christine had only ever seen in its incomplete form – now perfectly identical and smooth on both sides.


	5. Things You Know You can't Confess

Things You Know You can't Confess

Gustave has always known that he is different.

For as long as he can remember his mind has never been at rest. There is always music running through his mind, as though an orchestra is sitting inside his head and playing just for him.

But not just music – once, before his father started drinking, he offered to buy him anything he wanted for his third birthday. Gustave asked for a chemistry set and gave him a list of chemicals he needed for an experiment. His father gave him a horse instead.

When Gustave asked his Mother for a sketch pad and a compass to draw building plans with her eyes filled with tears, and Gustave learned quickly to act as normal as possible around other people.

But he always knew he wasn't.

By the time he was six his Mother refused to enter Gustave's room (he figured she didn't like the mess) which was covered in drawings, notebooks, sheet music and various experiments – the cluttered laboratory of a genius mind. His mind was like a sponge, constantly seeking new knowledge and when he couldn't find new books to teach himself he simply began experimenting.

He knew that music came from his Mother, to whom he was utterly devoted. Some of his earliest memories were of sitting on her lap at the piano as she named each key and taught him how to place his fingers (_Gently, Gustave, gently! It's not a pipe organ_). But he also remembers the shocked look on her face when, a few weeks after her lessons with him began, he sat down and proudly played her one of Chopin's Nocturnes.

Mother called it a gift, one which he should relish and nurture. One Sunday in church Gustave heard the pastor speak of gifts from Heaven, and so he asked his mother if his music was a gift from the angels.

She had smiled a little, and told him that in a way he was right. An angel had come to her, she said, and brought her a son. So really all of his talents were gifts from the angels. Now why don't you go outside and play for a while so I can see to dinner?

She didn't know it, but Gustave watched her. And he didn't understand why she suddenly began sobbing as though her heart was breaking as soon as he left the room.


	6. I Have Brought You

I Have Brought You

Christine is only half paying attention as she stares at the music box her son has left behind simply so she doesn't have to sit still. Gustave is terribly forgetful like that – his mind is always moving on to the newest puzzle, and he tends to lose himself in the melodies which are always playing inside his head. So she picks the music box up and smiles to herself, knowing that her son is special, unique, in a way that no other child could ever be. Someday he will be a great man.

It takes a few moments for the music to penetrate her thoughts, and even longer for the implications to fully register in her brain. When it does, she feels her breath catch and for a moment her heart ceases to beat. Christine could swear the room is spinning in circles, yet the world has never seemed more horribly still.

_I have brought you that our passions may fuse and merge – in your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defences, completely succumbed to me..._

For a minute she is back on that stage, shuddering inside as the voice which haunted her dreams for so long slowly stalks across the stage towards her. He is coming for her – he knows it is a trap, yet this music, _his music_, is the only thing that matters once she hears his voice.

It's been ten long years, but Christine has never forgotten her Angel.

A crippling pain shoots through her chest and her knees go weak as she realizes how completely and utterly foolish she has been. To think that she was so consumed in her own worries that she never thought, not even for a moment, that there could be more to this too-good-to-be-true offer than meets the eye.

And as she hears the rustling sound of a person walking through the balcony doors, Christine closes her eyes and for a second she gives in to the wave of longing, allowing a single tear to fall down her cheek, before she turns around and reality crashes down upon her.

_He's here._


	7. The Secret

The Secret

Christine has felt fear before in her life many times. She's been kidnapped, seduced, attacked by an enraged Phantom and used as bait. She's been through countless auditions, been hounded by prima donnas and has even had the dubious experience of fleeing from an enraged mob hell-bent on revenge against a ghost.

Still, she doesn't think she's ever quite felt fear like she does now as her son runs into the room with stories of a nightmare, hardly noticing the imposing man dressed in black with a white mask who is watching him with undisguised curiosity and an inscrutable emotion in his eyes. He's always seemed so omniscient, but this is a secret which Christine has guarded closely for ten years now and if anyone would be able to tell, it would be Erik.

_Please, God, don't let him realize..._

She's praying for a miracle. But as her son's eyes meet Erik's (_please, please don't see that it's like looking in a mirror in so many subtle ways_) she knows it's hopeless. They haven't realized it yet, but she can see the undeniable connection. It's in the widening of Gustave's eyes as he takes in the fascinating man, not realizing that he is now one of the few in the world to feel interest rather than fear at the sight of him. It's in the slight tilting of Erik's mouth as he offers to show Gustave his creations, appreciating the unique interests of a child with similar taste.

She knows in that moment that she should never have come. For all the money in the world she should never have come.

Now there's no turning back and somehow it feels like the night of Don Juan Triumphant all over again.


	8. Beautiful Epiphanies

Beautiful Epiphanies

Later, Erik would be able to pinpoint right down to the second the moment that the revelation hit him. It was the first note the boy struck on the piano – not because of the music itself, but the delicate way his small hand caressed the key and the spark of joy in his eyes as he allowed his left hand to join in with his right.

For a brief moment, he remembers another 10 year old boy picking out melodies on an ancient piano hidden in a dark corner of the Opera, desperately hoping no one would hear him in his private moment of heaven before the opera staff arrived for the day.

It's right there for anyone to see – it's in every note and every haunting turn of the melody in that song. This boy – this _music_ – is so familiar that he could swear he's known it all his life. And in a way, he has. It's his own.

The child said it himself. The music floats, falls and dies just like the night. Just like a lullaby, sung 10 years ago in a desperate attempt to win love. _Floating, falling, sweet intoxication_...

The boy is just ten years old. And really, Erik thinks, he should have known the truth the minute Christine told him the boy's age. That night is never far from his thoughts and he can feel his hands tightening into fists as the only thought that crashes through his brain is that this boy _is just ten years old!_

The revelation is like a wrecking ball that hits him in the heart; permanently crippling and yet liberating. Everything is going to change now; he can't just let her go back to France. There will be no moment of redemption from a single kiss, no merciful release following a moment of pity. This time he will have what is rightfully his.

He has a son.


	9. This Time, the Disaster Will be Yours

The Disaster Will be Yours

"That music – who was its creator?"

Raoul can feel his teeth grinding as he practically spits the question into his wife's rapidly paling face. There's a sick feeling in his stomach and an itch running along his neck, a memory of a time ten years ago when it was held too tightly by a noose.

As soon as Madame Giry said _him_ Raoul had known, of course, who she was talking about. Only one man ever inspired that terrified yet deferential look and somehow Raoul knew that Erik's intentions couldn't possibly be innocent. Not when it came to Christine.

Yet all the Phantoms in the world wouldn't have been so bad, Raoul thought, if it weren't for the terrified look on Christine's face that told him quite plainly that _she knew_. She had known exactly who had written that song and yet she still planned to sing.

Raoul remembers clearly a night in the manager's office of the Paris Opera House, plotting how they could force Christine to sing in order to entrap the Phantom for good.

_Somehow_, Raoul thinks wryly to himself, _that monster has managed to turn the tables on me yet again. And this time I can't force her to do anything._


	10. The Truth will Set you Free

The Truth will Set you Free

"How could you think I wouldn't guess? How could you think I wouldn't know? Do you have something to confess?"

She can hear her blood rushing in her ears and her heart beating so hard she thinks it will stop. Her eyes are closed and her desperate plea of "please don't make me!" falls on deaf ears as he wraps his hands around her neck and finally yells out, "I want the truth right now if so!"

She's spent the past ten years trying to deny this, pretending that her life wasn't a lie. There were even times that she wished Gustave really had been Raoul's. At least then she wouldn't feel so guilty every time her son called Raoul Father. Guilty because Raoul deserved the truth. Guilty because Erik deserved to know his own son. Guilty because Gustave deserved to have a father who would have understood and nurtured his talents and unique personality. Just so very... guilty.

But now the truth is out and she doesn't think she can bear it. She really should have known that this would happen – Erik is no fool, and anyone who knows him would see him in Gustave.

Christine slowly looks up into Erik's eyes, and for a moment her blood runs cold. She has seen Erik at his worst many times – she has seen him overwhelmed, murderous, and even hateful.

But now - for the first time since she's known him, there is fear. Stark fear and a hint of the panicked desperation she hasn't seen since Don Juan Triumphant.

This time she has no idea how to pull him back from the brink.


	11. Point and Counterpoint: Christine

Point and Counterpoint: Christine

"Our son... my son..."

It's hard to believe, looking at Erik's face now, that he was so angry a mere minute ago. His voice had shaken with rage as he demanded to know the truth, but judging from the expression he wore now he hadn't really expected Christine to confirm his suspicions.

She knew he had resigned himself a long time ago to missing most of the greatest joys in life – marriage, children, all the things other people took for granted. And right now he was finding that one of the greatest joys of all was within his reach, and yet impossible to take.

Gustave's scream had been shattering, but the damage had been done not to her son but to the man now standing in front of her who was realizing that his own son couldn't even stand to look at his Father's face.


	12. Point and Counterpoint: The Phantom

Point and Counterpoint: The Phantom

"Our son... my son..."

He never thought he could feel real love for another person after he lost Christine. He had always known she was the only person in this world he would ever really care for, and he had come to accept that.

A child was beyond hope. A child was supposed to be the physical representation of two people's love, something pure and redeeming in an otherwise cruel world. A child was all of its parents' hopes and dreams for a better future and never in the farthest reaches of Erik's mind had he considered this possibility.

It felt as though gravity had re-aligned itself, pulling him towards this boy instead of towards the Earth. He knew life could never be the same again – this child would live, would go on in the world. A piece of Christine mixed with himself – the best of both of them. Somehow it seemed... right.

And it would be a long time indeed before Erik could say "my son" without a small smile curving his misshapen lips, although he would deny it until his dying day.


	13. Did You Think I had Left You for Good?

Did You Think that I had Left You for Good?

He's careful to keep his face in shadow as he slowly stalks behind the bar, although it seems like he doesn't need to bother. The idiot boy is so drunk he probably wouldn't notice if... well, if he threw a noose around his neck.

It's clear from the look on de Chagny's face that he's not having a good night.

Murmuring under his breath about his wife, it's all Erik can do not to hit him and when he hears the Vicomte mutter, "One more drink, sir, that's what I need don't you think, sir?" to the apathetic bartender Erik has to repress the sudden urge to smash one of the empty liquor bottles and slice it across the boy's throat.

"How 'bout you, sir, tell me what am I to do, sir?" and his fists clench. This boy has everything - everything! - Erik has ever wanted and he does nothing but abuse it and take it for granted.

When Christine was his for those few months before Raoul took her away, Erik never drank - in fact, he rarely slept. He couldn't bear to lose a single precious moment with her to any sort of oblivion. And here this boy does nothing but throw himself head first into the nearest bottle as though Christine is something he should try to forget when she should be cherished – worshipped even.

It was unforgivable even then. But now there is a new factor. It's no longer just Christine - this fool is raising Erik's son. And he'll be _damned_ if he lets his own child be raised by the man currently half passed out on the bar of Coney Island. A quick glare at the bartender is all it takes – he recognizes the mysterious Mr. Y and leaves silently.

"I'm not afraid of him! I've bested him before and if he ever had the courage to meet me face to face, man to man -"

He can't take it anymore. Erik can feel the old facade rising again - for a few minutes he's once again the Phantom of the Opera, stalking his prey. This boy deserves to suffer for what he has done to Christine, and the angel of death is only too happy to oblige.

For a second he seriously considers it. It would be so easy. A drunken gambler could easily fall off the side of a slippery pier. But there could be a better way - Christine made it clear so long ago that threats would not win her heart. Ten years of living with this drunkard have softened her towards her long-ago teacher, and he knows that if he can only get rid of the competition she'll be his in body as well as spirit. Then again, she's given him both of those before, hasn't she?

And so he smirks, knowing that, really, he's already won.


	14. A Gambling Man

A Gambling Man

"Shall we two make a bet? Devil take the hindmost."

Raoul knows he shouldn't respond. He's already won Christine, so really there is nothing to gain and everything to lose. If he does this - again - he could find himself abandoned with empty pockets, which is in fact a familiar feeling at this point.

Nothing to gain. Right. Then again, that would mean ignoring the looks she's been giving him lately. For the past two days there's been a light in her eyes that Raoul hasn't seen for years, and he knows exactly what it means. He used to see it when she sang in Paris – it was part of what he had loved about her. After she sings nothing will be the same - not now that she'll remember that joy and how it feels to give in to the music. She'll never truly be his again.

If he does this he could lose her. But then again, perhaps she is already lost.

And Raoul has never been able to resist a good gamble.


	15. The Soul of a Musician

The Soul of a Musician

"Deal the cards - let them fall. Choose your hand, try your best. He who wins, wins it all!"

Erik can feel his heart beating faster and faster as a sensation of power surges up inside of him. He has de Chagny exactly where he wants him, and the boy has no idea what he's getting himself into. Erik knows that the moment Christine received that song she was committed to sing it - she is a musician first, and his music wouldn't allow her to do otherwise.

She is a lover second, and her heart will agree. She never had a chance.

* * *

AN: Don't ask - who knows what I was thinking when I wrote this.


	16. Such a Child

Such a Child

"Such a child, strange to see. Different - musical. Is he more you or me? Which one do you find most?"

Raoul can feel the sinking feeling in his stomach as the monster's words hit him and finally penetrate his drunken mind. At first there is sheer indignation that this creature would even presume to suggest such a thing - he remembers the boy's birth, and it was a full 9 months after Raoul's marriage to Christine. That he would even suggest that she would commit such a sin is low, even for such a monster.

But there's another part of his mind – the part that realizes what he's done to his wife for so long - that hears what is being said. When Gustave was two Raoul found him playing Tchaikovsky on the piano previously only used by Christine to plink out basic melodies, and when the boy was four he started finding sheet music with a child's handwriting scribbled upon it all over the house. Christine is a talented musician, but this was something different entirely. This was genius.

Then the realization. 9 months after the wedding - so when could Christine have possibly... they had waited for a month after that night at the Opera to be married. But if this was true - if it was really true - then she would have had to have gone back. His Christine had gone back, after everything they'd been through to get away, she'd gone back to the Phantom and offered herself to him. And his son - his own son –

No. No, it couldn't be. Raoul forced that thought into the forefront of his mind - it was just a trick designed to put him off guard. After all, this man was always the master of manipulations. "You lie - I call your bluff!" Raoul yells, full of bravado and confidence that he can convince his own wife not to leave him after a decade of loyalty.

And he purposefully ignores the small corner of his mind which is quietly playing that song Gustave has written, that tells him he's heard such music before. That reminds him of a night, long ago, when he stood and watched Christine press her lips to another's not in fear, but in passion. And for once he isn't sure who she really chose that night, and why.


	17. Rewriting the Ending

Re-writing the Ending

"She sings... you leave alone."

It's the gamble they've always been doomed to take. He tried it ten years ago but Christine changed the rules when she ripped off his mask, and then tore his will to shreds with that kiss. But this time Erik is not going to be charitable - he will no longer play the repentant lover, redeemed with a kiss. This time, his glare assures the Vicomte, he will have what is his.

This is it - this time the ending will change.

"Devil take the hindmost."


	18. Center Stage

Center Stage

The spotlight is warm – almost too warm – and Christine feels her eyes squinting slightly as she steps out onto the stage of the auditorium. She can't see the audience, although she knows they're there. But they aren't the ones that matter right now.

The choice isn't new. She made it once ten years ago, but it had all gone so badly wrong. Maybe, she thought sadly, she should be glad for this. For once she could make her own judgment and they would have to listen. She's no longer the shy nineteen year old girl who's never known life outside of the Opera.

Raoul or Erik. She chose music ten years ago, but had her decision ripped away from her supposedly for her own good. Sometimes when she thought about it she resented that. But now things were different – she has a life, a husband, and most of all a child who has no idea that his entire life had been a lie. Maybe it would be selfish. Maybe she should do the honourable thing and go home.

They're both watching right now from the wings and _she has no idea what to do_.

How could it have come to this? It should have ended back then – there are so many "what ifs" that she can't make herself think straight. Raoul promises not to drink. Erik promises to give her music. Raoul is safe. Erik is passionate. Raoul might never satisfy her. Erik will spend his entire life in darkness. It all makes her head spin.

Then again, maybe she does know. Maybe she's always known. After all, what Little Lotte loved best was not her chocolates or her shoes, but to hear the angel of music sing songs in her head. And despite his very human form, Erik has, and always will be, her angel of music.

When Christine opens her mouth and takes a breath she feels a startling sense of peace, and it is this awareness which allows her to sing – and to truly understand – the song he wrote for her.

_Who knows when love begins, who knows what makes it start..._


	19. A Father's Love

A Father's Love

"Gustave? Gustave?"

Erik has never cared about anyone enough to worry for their health – not except for Christine. And she always seemed so young, so full of life that it was never an issue. Delicate, yes, but also independent in her own way and capable of taking care of her own health.

Now, since this revelation, there has been a new feeling creeping up on him. Gustave – his son! – is ten years old and curious. Suddenly Erik is aware of all of the dangers in Phantasma, from the rides to the people of dubious reputations that tend to hang around the darker corners of the park. Still, it hasn't been a pressing concern. Until now.

"What's wrong?" He asks somewhat confusedly, and at Christine's frantic response that the child should have been here by now a trickle of fear runs down his spine. The realization that he has no idea where his son is scares him in a way he's never felt before, and the final revelation that the Giry brat has taken him sets him into a full blown panic. He's barely aware of his own voice frantically calling Gustave's name with a hysterical edge completely unfamiliar to the normally controlled man.

In that one heart stopping moment he feels exactly what it means to be a Father and to care for nothing in the world so much as his own child. And it is glorious.


	20. Black Despair

Black Despair

For someone who has lived an entire lifetime of nothing but pain and emptiness, Erik was really surprised he didn't just end it all. But it's never something he seriously considered, aside from that one night 10 years ago when Christine left him in the cellars. It's always seemed like the coward's way out, and he can't bring himself to leave this world as long as she is in it, despite the fact that everyone would probably be better off for his demise.

But this girl – no, Meg, he should really use her name – is clearly willing to go through with it. He can't help but wonder what he's missing. Surely 10 years of indifference couldn't drive a person to this. He'd like to think he doesn't care, but he has always (despite what she says) felt loyalty to Madame Giry for what she's done for him, and he doesn't want her to feel the agonizing pain of losing a child.

He nearly got a taste of that a few minutes ago, and he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy.

His eyes are slightly triumphant as he slowly reaches for the gun, confident in his ability to take it from one tiny dancer's trembling hands. She was being ridiculous, really, and if she would just _let go_ –

The bang of the gun took him by surprise – he hadn't even realized the girl had put her finger over the trigger – and he is quick to wrench it out of her hands before she can do someone real damage. But then –

"No! NO! I didn't mean to! Mother –"

For a moment it is like time has stopped. A quick glance tells him Gustave is fine, but he swears he sees black encroaching on his vision as Christine's eyes go wide and she stumbles backwards, placing one hand slowly over her stomach. As she raises it, it is covered in blood, and realization seems to hit her as she finally looks up into his eyes.

He rushes forward to catch her as she falls and can feel the desperation rising in his throat as he screams for Giry to go get help, but he knows it is too late. His trained eye sees the blood loss and the location of the wound, and knows that this is one fall she won't recover from.

No, Erik has never seriously considered killing himself before. But when Christine's hand finally hits the wooden planks of the pier, he remembers for a moment that he is still holding that wretched gun.

And for the first time, he has absolutely no desire to fight for his place in this world. He is dying of love, and although he knows he won't use that gun tonight (_his son..._) he knows the truth.

Death would be redundant at this point.


	21. Red Death

Red Death

Blue is the color of her eyes and Erik always thinks he's never seen anything more beautiful. When she smiled up at him that night after she kissed him he thought he could happily die right then as long as she didn't look away.

Red is the color of roses left on dressing room tables; fresh and blooming, heavy with perfume and always with the thorns cut off so she doesn't prick her fingers. Everyone else sends pink roses, but Christine loves the red ones most of all because they come from _him_.

Gold is for the Paris Opera House, with its elaborate statues and huge marble staircase. When Erik first arrived he thought it was the most beautiful building he'd ever seen on the inside. When Christine first arrived she thought it seemed like the sort of place an angel would live, and she found out later how true that was.

Blue is the color of the ocean beneath the pier, despite the darkness. The waves that slowly lap up on the sand are quiet, but in the silence of grief they seem as loud as cannon fire. The water looks unnaturally blue from the lights of the nearby park as drops splash up onto the pier, and perhaps this is a good thing since now Erik can't tell which drops are the ocean's and which came from his eyes.

Red is the color of blood, slowly seeping into the wood and staining Erik's hands as he frantically tries to stop the bleeding through sheer force of will, despite the fact that he knows it's too late. It's the dampness on her hands which she had pressed to her stomach in a moment of surprise and now has wrapped in the lapels of his jacket. Red is the front of her dress, and now his shirt, but he doesn't even notice, let alone care.

Gold is the color of the wedding band on her finger, placed there ten years ago with so many hopes and dreams now long shattered. And as it slips off her finger and falls into the ocean, the gold continues to sparkle as it's slowly buried beneath the sand and forgotten.

* * *

AN: Not sure what I was going for here, either... it just kind of popped into my head and I thought it was poetic.


	22. It's Over Now

It's Over Now

There has always been music in his life.

In his earliest memories, he remembers vague melodies and uncoordinated rhythms that would run through his head, even when he was concentrating on other things. Later he learned to develop them, to turn them into something beautiful. But they were always there in the background – music has been his anchor for so long that he doesn't know what it is to live without it.

Now his hands are stained red, and there is a small thud as her hand falls limply against the pier. The river of blood running over him slows to a trickle as her heart ceases to beat. It is with a detached, clinical air that he finally notices:

The music is gone. There is nothing but silence inside his mind.

* * *

AN: This was actually the first one I wrote... I think it's my favorite too.


	23. Bathing Beauty in the Dark

Bathing Beauty in the Dark

She knew they had forgotten her presence. The incredible reunion occurring just feet away from her could have been miles away for all Meg Giry knew. She didn't look as the master took off his mask, and she didn't look as father and son embraced for the first time. She didn't even look when they finally left, supporting each other in their mutual grief.

No, all Meg could do was stare at the peaceful face in her lap. Christine. Her best friend at the Opera and her rival in Coney Island, now nothing more than a cold body on the pier.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way – such a senseless, tragic death. It accomplished nothing, served no one. All because of a stupid slip of a finger, of a single gun, mishandled in a moment of anger.

There could be no repentance for this. Meg couldn't beg forgiveness, for she knew she hadn't meant to fire the weapon. But that didn't mean she could move on. And off in the distance she could hear the sounds of sirens, of heavy boots running down the pier.

No, there could be no absolution. No atonement. And as Meg picked up the gun, again placing it to her head with her now steady finger on the trigger, she did the only thing she could do to make amends.

A single gunshot rang out across the silent pier.

She accepted her punishment with open arms and a peaceful smile on her face.

* * *

AN: I just never imagine Meg going on after that ending - she really didn't seem able to cope. And she's not in the prologue with her Mother, so to me this seems to make the most sense.


	24. Reunion

Reunion

"Father?"

He could hear his son's footsteps slowly padding across the thick carpet as they slowly came to a halt by his bedside. The lamp was turned up slowly, but not very much out of respect for sensitive eyes, and the changing level of the boy's voice told him that his son had kneeled next to the bed.

"Father, are you awake? I spoke to the doctor –"

"I know what the doctor said." The words were quiet and resigned, ragged with age but still retaining the semblance of beauty. "It won't be much longer."

There was a brief silence. "Clara is downstairs with Alexander. Should I –"

"No." He didn't want to see his daughter-in-law and his grandson right now. Not in these last moments. "You should not have to be here for this. Not a second time."

"I'm not leaving." And almost tentatively a hand reached out to grasp his father's, an action rarely done during life but somehow appreciated in this moment. "You shouldn't be alone. She never would have wanted you to be alone."

Gustave's mother was a forbidden subject in the household for a long time, simply because he knew his father couldn't bear to speak of her after her death. To this day Gustave knew there had never been another for his father, and now that he knew his parents' story Gustave wasn't surprised.

"I won't be alone." Came the quiet response, and Gustave was surprised for a moment. His father was never a religious man. "She believed in angels for so long – she thought _I _was an angel for so long. But I knew – I knew it was _her_. She was the angel –" there was a gasp as he struggled to breathe. "If anyone could make me believe, it would be her. Do you remember what she said... that night?"

Gustave allowed a slight smile to touch his lips at his father's rambling words, brought on by the fever but true nonetheless. He remembered. "About love? Yes, Father."

"It's true. After all, you still live. And your son, and someday –"

"They will know her story, Father."

They were silent for several minutes, before –

"Father, please. You know you shouldn't wear it. Not now. And no more morbid jokes about living corpses, alright?" There was a soft laugh from the man on the bed.

His father's hand tightened reflexively – years of hiding from the world had taught him to be wary of hands reaching for his face - and Gustave set the mask on the bedside table.

The words were so soft Gustave could barely hear them: "I can hear her."

"Who, Father?" Gustave responded in a low whisper, and ignored the slight prickle in his eyes. He knew that it was time – he knew it was probably a mercy after the decades of grieving and barely living. She wouldn't have wanted him to mourn for so long, but Gustave knew that his father had loved her more than life itself. Without her he had ceased to entirely live – the only thing that had kept him from following her into death that night had been their son.

So Gustave smiled, rather than cried, as he heard his father's breath grow shallow. The grip on his hand loosened, and Gustave heard him whisper in the softest voice, "Christine..." and then all was silent.

Gustave breathed deeply and looked down. It was over, then.

_Take care of him, Mother. Father has been waiting a long time to see his angel again._

_

* * *

_

AN: I know, this is pushing it. But I wanted some sort of ending, and while I couldn't imagine the Phantom killing himself now that he has Gustave I also can't imagine him just moving on with life.


End file.
